


propositions

by psychedelia



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Lonely Avatar Martin Blackwood, M/M, Not reaaaaaaally since it's season 1 but... the inspiration is there., One Night Stands, Season 1, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelia/pseuds/psychedelia
Summary: When Tim propositions Martin in the safe room, Martin actually says yes. Have some fun, boys.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	propositions

Look, when Tim propositioned Martin in the safe room, it’s not that he wasn’t  _ serious _ , but it’s not like it wasn’t a joke, either. What with Martin’s jumpiness, shyness, and, well, the everything else about him, Tim wasn’t expecting a resounded  _ yes _ . Not even a  _ maybe _ . Certainly wasn’t even expecting a  _ no _ , because that’s still more language than Tim was expecting from Martin at all. He  _ expected  _ a stammered approximation of denial and little else. 

He didn’t get that. 

Where Tim was gearing up for blushing and stuttering and a loss of eye contact  _ but _ all exhibited in a way that was clearly flattered, what he got instead was Martin slamming his mouth shut and cocking his head, and a very  _ different _ expression than the look of panic that graced his features just a moment ago. 

“Sure,” He said, and squinted at Tim slightly. “Yeah, okay. Not here, though.” 

Oh, it was Tim’s turn to laugh a little hysterically. So he did, and said, “No, no, not--  _ duh _ , not here. My place. Uh-- Okay! Yeah, seven?” 

“Alright, seven.” 

And Tim supposed that was that. 

\---

Here’s the thing: what do you do when you’ve planned ahead a fuck session with your neurotic as hell coworker who, yes, is extremely hot, but also yes, is again, neurotic as hell? For one Timothy Stoker-- not quite a sexpert, yet, haven’t quite attained that PhD, just got the masters thus far, thank you very much-- it means not doing much. 

No romantic lighting, fancy foods, sappy music. Good. Yuck. That’s for a post-third date at  _ least _ . 

Good thinking, too, because when Martin arrives, he clearly came straight from work, which-- Oh. Well. Guess he doesn’t exactly have much of a  _ choice _ these days, huh. Well! The statement stands; he could have at least changed out of his work sweater and button down and slacks to put on something  _ slightly _ more form hugging or sexy or literally any level of attractive at all. 

Tim, at least, put on one of his sexier button downs and left the first few buttons undone. Not quite Rico Suave flair, but who can really beat  _ that _ level of suave? It’s in the name!

“Martin! Glad you made it. We can, uh, order takeaway, or I can whip something up, or--”

Oh! Okay. Martin’s kissing him and he hasn’t even taken his shoes off. Guess he’s pent up. And he’s  _ good _ , too. Once Tim adjusts, pulling back away from the door to let Martin really take the spotlight here, it’s clear he knows what he’s  _ doing _ , and oh, wow, it feels nice to not have to take the lead through every excruciating step. Wow, it’s nice that Martin seems to know what he wants. 

Martin gets him flush against the wall to the kitchen, and Tim pulls back a little to pant out, “Down, boy,” and as though Martin was reading his mind, he growls a little, and dives back in. 

Tim is very much  _ not _ regretting his awkward proposition now. 

\---

Tim’s not a gossip. So he’s not going to kiss and tell  _ all _ the dirty things Martin can do with his tongue, or his fingers, or his mouth, or even his  _ eyes _ , fuck he can be intense when he really turns it on, can’t he? He’s not going to talk about how good Martin is at fucking ( _ very  _ good), or how many times he makes Tim come over the course of the night (well, it’s definitely more than three, just saying, again, the things he can do with his  _ fingers _ ), and he’s  _ certainly  _ not going to talk about how many times Martin laughs at his joke (it’s a lot of them). 

What he  _ will _ say is that his favorite part of the night is afterwards, when they’re laying in Tim’s bed having a post-fuck joint, and Tim can run his fingers down Martin’s thigh as he passes over the roach clip and watches Martin’s half-lidded expression exhale smoke in contention. 

“So,” Tim starts, and pats Martin’s thigh hard once, eliciting a glare and an  _ ow _ from him. 

“So?” Martin raises his brow, giving Tim a quizzical look. 

“ _ So,  _ I think you might be a devilish madman, because I did  _ not _ expect  _ that _ !” Tim grins at him. “Not that I’m complaining! Not at  _ all _ .” 

“Uh-huh, blame it all on the crazy, and not on me,” Martin says, and passes back the clip, and curls up beside Tim.  _ Oh _ , this part always makes him weep from intimacy. Not really, not on the outside, but on the inside? April showers, all the time. Tim runs his hand down Martin’s back and beams down at him. 

“Oh, no, I’m blaming  _ you _ . And hey! You fuck me, I fuck you, you get to sleep in a bed and not a  _ cot _ for once. Win-win situation on all parties here.” His voice drops a little, to something far more serious and gravelly than he normally lets his cadence fall into. He  _ knows _ it unnerves people, but hey! Can’t always be sunshine and bloody rainbows, can it? “Thank you. It was nice.” 

Martin hums against him and idly pats his arm, but his eyes are filtering shut, and Tim’s fairly certain he’s out like a light in just a few minutes. Lucky bastard. Well. Maybe Tim’s lucky, too. He turns the lights out, and beds down with his bedfellow.

\---

Tim’s not dumb. He can feel when the window--  _ the window!!-- _ opens, because a light breeze wafts in. Most people don’t know this, but he’s an incredibly light sleeper, and the jostled window frame followed by cool summer night air is enough to wake him up. The curtains billow inwards, just slightly, and ah, there’s the cinematography that he was waiting for. 

Martin climbs out of the window, without a look back at Tim, his bag slung over his shoulder and his movements carrying a practiced ease that Tim can only think of as ‘unfortunate.’ No doubt, he’s graceful, but Tim was kind of looking forward to figuring out how Martin takes his eggs, and how he takes his toast, and was thinking of breaking his own rules and asking him out for another night. 

The window closes behind Martin’s departure, and to the room at large, Tim whispers, “Chest la vy,” that is to say, c’est la vie. 

The only thing that Tim regrets is the fact that Martin never, ever acknowledges what happened ever again. Pity. It was a fun night.


End file.
